| George, Gregory, champagne and changes
||[Feb. 3rd, 2004|12:20 am]
Voyeurs, not pups. Friday afternoon, New York. If this is what they get like when they have to spend a week apart, no wonder things are getting so serious...|
Practically bouncing with anticipation, Gregory checks his watch and paces a bit around the small café near the arrival gates of JFK. Airport security prevents him from getting closer, but he's promised George he'll meet him here. And that should be - he checks his watch again - any moment.
Lorraine teased him all morning, about his goofy smile, his casual dress (Jeans and a cashmere sweater! At the office! The senior partners would be scandalized!) and the fact that he had her check on the limousine five times. It was a loving tease, though, and she gave him a big kiss "for looking so perfectly happy" as he left.
Perfectly happy is a good way to describe it.
From his clothing to the mode of transportation to get them home, to the champagne and filet mignon lunch waiting for them at the apartment, Gregory has wracked his non-romantic brains to create a welcome that says, "I missed you, I love you and you're not wearing clothing for the rest of the weekend."
He coughs a smirk into his fist. Good grief. Sometimes he can't believe himself.
George, dressed in tan slacks, a black v-neck sweater and a battered brown leather jacket, stands at the luggage carousel with a cloud over his head. It wasn't a great flight thanks to winter gales, and he's spent most of it on the phone trying to sort out shooting delays on Ocean's 12 since Brad went and got himself injured on Troy. Only Brad could injure his Achilles tendon while playing Achilles. On top of that, the food on the flight was terrible, George's stomach is grumbling, and his luggage seems to be the last to come off the plane. So much for First Class.
When his luggage finally arrives, George dumps it onto a cart and grumbles his way through customs, where they insist on repeatedly x-raying the stupid damn bagpipes the hotel gave him as a 'welcome to Scotland' gift. By the time he gets through the arrival gates, about twenty minutes late, he's ready to snap.
And then he sees Gregory. The cloud melts away and he breaks into a smile like there's sunshine on his face. The only negative thought still lingering in his mind is that because he's out in public, he can't take Greg in his arms and kiss him. But he can at least get a hug, and right now, that'll have to do.
"Hey han..." George shouts out, catching himself just in time. "Hey you," he says again with a blush.
"Hey," Gregory calls, resisting the dorky wave that immediately yearn to happen. He closes the gap between them and envelopes George in a tight embrace. "God I love you, welcome home," he whispers before pulling back. He's well aware of George's need to keep his private life out of the public eye.
"I want to kiss you so badly I think I'm going blind," George whispers in his ear. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"Couldn't agree more." Gregory gestures towards George's luggage rack. "This is it right? I have a limo waiting for us outside." His grin is wide, his heart thumping wildly.
"You have a limo?" George echoes, pushing the cart towards the exit. He can feel that familiar ache returning to his face already - the one he gets from smiling all the time whenever Gregory's around. "What's the occasion? I know I didn't get an Oscar nomination."
"The occasion is I'm happy to see you," Gregory beams, walking backwards for a moment. He skirts around clumps of travelers and steps through the exit doors as they slide open.
He steps away to look for the limo, spotting him idling a ways down. Waving, he catches the driver's attention then turns to George again. "I wanted to welcome you home in style."
George stares at him in a stunned, happy reverie. "You're wonderful," he says. He's already worked out that a limousine is a lot more discreet than a cab.
The driver comes out and loads the luggage into the trunk, while George just stands and stares at Gregory adoringly.
"It's cold! Get in the limo," Gregory insists, teeth suddenly chattering as he realizes his own jacket is in the backseat. He opens the door and urges George inside.
George clambers in to the limo with the enthusiasm of a giddy ten-year-old and sits waiting for Gregory to join him. As soon as he's in and the door is closed, he virtually pounces to wrap his arms around him and damn near kisses the life out of him.
"Oof," Gregory laughs, but he isn't complaining. The privacy screen and tinted windows are no accident - this is exactly what he wanted to happen. Cradling George's face in his hands, Gregory pours himself into returning those enthusiastic kisses. It's a minute before he realizes the limo is moving.
"Did the driver get in, or are we doing this?" George asks. "God, you look good. How long a drive have we got?" He tries to look at his watch without pulling his face too far from Gregory's lips.
"The driver is driving. He has specific instructions and a large tip in his pocket." Gregory presses another playful kiss on George's mouth. "We should get to the apartment in about forty minutes. Depending on traffic."
Even as he speaks, Gregory's hands are running over George's body, slipping under his jacket.
George chuckles - and blushes slightly - at the touch of Gregory's roaming hands. "How on earth are we going to kill all that time?" George asks, raising an eyebrow, his hands sliding over Gregory's chest then down under the bottom of his sweater.
"You could show me your souvenirs? Snapshots?" Gregory leans impossibly closer. "Tell me about your flight..."
"I have bagpipes," George murmurs. But he doesn't get to go into any more detail as he leans in for another kiss, this one softer and more lingering, and he slides his jacket off over his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.
"I think there might be a dirty joke in there but damned if I'm clever enough to find it...." Tenderly, Gregory presses kisses along George's jaw, smiling as the beard tickles his lips. "I like this... very sexy."
"Good," George growls. "But you may find it tickles," he teases. He rolls Gregory's sweater up his body, then the t-shirt underneath, and presses his mouth to the warm skin of his stomach.
"takemychances," Gregory rushes out as he arches up. Since their conversation earlier this week he's been a walking hormone, having to take two cold showers after catching a late night rerun of ER just so he could get some sleep.
Tangling his hands in George's hair, Gregory sighs with pleasure.
George peels the sweater and t-shirt off over Gregory's head, and his mouth travels up along the stretch of his muscles to nuzzle at his neck. "You're so beautiful," he whispers. "I've missed you so much."
Half naked in the back of limo isn't exactly commonplace for Gregory, and he shivers slightly against his lover's touch. "What you do to me..." he whispers, stroking his hands along George's back.
"What do you want me to do to you?" George asks mischievously. He pulls at Gregory's belt and unfastens his pants.
Boldly, Gregory touches George's mouth with fingertips. "I want you to show me if the beard makes a difference..." his voice trails off as he slips his fingers into his lover's mouth, making the request more than obvious.
George breaks into a really broad grin at that. He slides in to Gregory's pants and grabs hold of his dick. Knowing the way he makes Gregory writhe and moan when he's giving him head, he doesn't need to be asked twice.
"Let's both find out," he says, slowly lowering his head.
"Yesss," he moans, restless hands moving across George's upper back, pulling at his shirt. Gregory should probably be at least somewhat scandalized by this, but there isn't time to do anything but gasp with pleasure as George takes him into his mouth.
George slides his tongue along the shaft, then closes his lips over Gregory's dick and sinks deeper. It's good to be home, he thinks, as he pulls Gregory's pants down off his thighs and rubs at the muscles in his legs.
Shaking, Gregory rocks up into George's mouth, his hands tight on his back. "God... missed you... you... so good so good." The air is pulled out of his lungs, his body tight with desire.
George takes Gregory's balls into the palm of one hand and massages them gently, his eyes grazing up over Gregory's chest to get a look at his expression. Then he gulps his dick down again, swallowing, humming.
With a moan, Gregory increases his movements - he isn't going to last long because he's been masturbating to this... this incredible feeling and sight for the past four days and he can barely contain the rising pressure.
George slides his other hand up across Gregory's body and squeezes at his nipple. He doesn't have the discipline to drag this out. He's enjoying his lover's responses far too much for that. What the hell, they've got the whole month. He lowers himself the full way, then quickly bobs his head, letting Gregory properly fuck his throat.
"Oh God," Gregory manages to grind out, lifting his hips completely off the seat. He thrusts up a few more times before groaning, shooting his orgasm down George's throat.
George swallows with a satisfied murmur, then gasps for air, letting some of it spill from his mouth. He grabs Gregory's dick and pumps a couple more times. He's come to treasure this taste. He licks up every trace he can find, not wanting to leave Gregory with a mess.
Leaning against the seat, Gregory laughs weakly. He strokes the side of George's face, tilting it up until their eyes meet.
"Amazing... I love you." He grins. "And I really needed that..."
George rises up and presses himself against Gregory, curling against him, desperate to grab hold of him again. "God, I'm so happy to be home," he whispers.
Nodding, Gregory holds George tightly, pressing their foreheads together. "I don't how I'm going to let you get on another plane without me..."
"Let's think about that in... March," George suggests. Yeah, he should go back to Scotland some time this month. He should visit LA, too. But right now, he's not going to think about it. Right now, he just wants to be in the arms of his lover.
They manage to get dressed - or rather Gregory is not naked anymore when they pull up to his building. The driver raps on the door discretely and they tumble out, trying not to be too obvious. There's few people on the street, so they manage to make it into the building without being seen.
Inside, Gregory clutches George's hand, grinning. "Home sweet home."
"Let's never go outside again," George chuckles, giving Gregory's hand a tight squeeze. He leans in and gives Gregory a peck on the cheek. He scans around the apartment, not letting Gregory go. It feels different now he knows it's 'home' for the next few weeks.
"The driver will bring the luggage up. Do you want something to eat? Drink?" Gregory leans up against George, feeling a bit silly but unable to let go.
Feeling lazy with contentment, George presses his body to Gregory's and brushes his other hand through his hair. "I am starving, actually," he confesses. "And not just for you."
"Hmmm... that sounds like a perfect opening for an early dinner in bed." Gregory smiles, tugging George's jacket off. "I have some things ready to go..."
"Well, you've just got this whole thing in hand, haven't you?" George smirks, running his hand down Gregory's chest. "Anything else planned that I should know about? Have you fitted chains to the bed so I can't get away?"
Gregory manages to keep both stammer and blush away as he answers, "They're only there if you put up a struggle." He draws George closer to kiss him - a kiss that holds promise for what's to come.
George sighs into the kiss and welcomes Gregory into his mouth, his hands cresting down to grab hold of his ass.
"I love you so much," George says, drawing back only very slightly, his lips still hovering close to Gregory's. If he sounds slightly confused, it's because he is, because he still can't understand how this happened. "I think it's only fair to warn you, though, that I'm seriously thinking about putting up a struggle."
"I love you too." Gregory taps their foreheads together. "Struggle all you want - you're mine for the weekend. I'll let you leave the apartment on Monday but...you have to be back by 6:30." He winks
George laughs, and rolls his forehead against Gregory's. "I think I can manage that," he says. "I've arranged to use an office at HBO for the month, so I won't just be sitting around the apartment all day when you're not here. Actually, I don't even know how long I'll be here."
Before the flicker of doubt can fully form on Gregory's face, George corrects himself. "I mean, I may be here longer," he says. "We're looking at all kinds of delays on 12, so... I may be here longer, if that's OK."
"Is that okay?" Gregory laughs, pressing another kiss to George's smiling mouth. "That's... I'm thrilled. And it might... it might work out perfectly with something I'm considering actually..."
He steps back, still holding onto George. "That's a longer discussion. You - bed. Me - getting dinner."
George's intrigue is clear in his expression, but he knows he shouldn't push.
"I'll go wash," he suggests. "Then I'll go warm up the bed." He kisses Gregory on the forehead, on the cheek, and then, too close to resist, kisses him again on the mouth before reluctantly tearing himself away and heading for the bathroom.
Grinning, Gregory watches George depart, then goes to the door to help the driver bring in the luggage, leaving him with a generous tip. He then heads for the kitchen, whistling briskly. He gets out a breakfast tray and loads it up with grapes, a half wheel of Brie and cracked wheat crackers. Champagne at this hour seems decadent - so Gregory gleefully puts a bottle on the tray, along with two flutes.
This seems rather a celebration - especially if his idea is met with the same enthusiasm he's feeling. It wouldn't solve all their problems, but at the very least, it would give Gregory more control over their time. And if George were to meet him part of the way...
He picks up the tray and heads into the bedroom.
Rather than just splash some water in his face, George takes a quick shower to get the airline grime off his skin. He towels off quickly, leaving his hair a little damp, and wraps a fresh towel around his waist, then saunters in to the bedroom a little too late to warm up the bed, since Gregory is already there.
George spots the champagne and arches an eyebrow.
"Mr Dunkirk, you know that stuff goes straight to a boy's head," he chuckles.
Shoes off, Gregory is cross-legged in the middle of the bed, opening the champagne. He smiles broadly at George, a brow arching at his very sexy state.
"All part of my elaborate seduction to get you undressed." He tilts his head slightly. "Wow, that worked really well. What happens when you actually drink some?"
"I guess we'll find out," George answers, climbing onto the bed and lying propped on one arm. He looks up at Gregory and studies his face. Sometimes he wonders if he's fallen too fast, but then he looks at this man, truly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he knows this was meant to be.
"I'm a very, very happy man," George says tenderly. "You have to know that. I'm stupid with happiness."
Gregory pops the cork, catching the overflow in one flute, and fills them both. He's silent during the entire process and then he finally looks at George.
This has been on his mind since they met, but mostly this week, as he entertained plans to turn his orderly life upside down. Since that night in Washington DC - or even before that, since that day George came to see Diane at the apartment - Gregory's life has been... changed.
"I've never had this George. Never had these feelings...and I'm not talking about the fact that you're a man. This feeling like... I want to change my life, I want to bind it to yours." Starting out passionately, Gregory falters a bit, dropping his eyes. "I mean... that sounds a little dramatic I know..."
George sits up, realising this is something serious, but worried about what it might be. "Actually, it sounds pretty good," George says. "So far, anyway."
Gregory takes a deep breath. "I'm thinking... well, I'm seriously considering... leaving the law firm and... hanging out a shingle on my own." Gregory peeks up, looking for George's reaction from under his lashes.
The first words that creep in to George's brain are 'leaving the law firm', and he has to stop himself making his frown too obvious. But the frown soon turns into a smile as Gregory completes his thought.
"You mean... you'd be your own boss?" George asks. He can see immediate benefits of the idea, from a wholly selfish perspective, but given how many people Gregory helps, this is no time to be selfish. "Wait, what does that actually mean? What would you do?"
"I'd focus more full-time on my charity work essentially. I mean, let's face it, I have all the money I'll ever need. Ten times that. I live rather modestly, because I'm comfortable that way. I don't need the law firm. And being my own boss - it feels right," Gregory starts to warm up. "I want to help women and their children be safe George. And I want to do it without money being a factor." His face flushes a little as the excitement builds. "Plus - and here's the selfish little part - I can also start building my life to include... you."
"That... that sounds..." George laughs and reaches across to grab Gregory's hand. "I like the sound of all of it. Especially the selfish part. But I think it's what you need to do, and... if I can help you in any way, just ask."
Gregory beams. "Thank you - thank you." He laughs as he grips George's hand. Leaning down, he kisses him, trying not to spill the champagne.
"I guess we should raise a toast?" George asks. "To my brilliant, wonderful boyfriend?"
"Funny, my toast is exactly the same." Gregory hands over one of the flutes before pouring his own. He raises his glass, grinning like a maniac.
Clinking his glass against George's, he says, "Here's to new beginnings and new endeavors. And my brilliant, wonderful boyfriend."
"New beginnings. New endeavors. You. And us." George takes a sip, his eyes fixed on his lover. It's easily the best champagne he's ever tasted, but that may be the circumstances as much as the vintage.
After a decent pause to savor the moment, George asks; "I assume you'll still be staying in New York?"
Gregory nods, toying with the glass for a moment. "I - I thought a lot about that George. And yes, it would be much easier for me to move to California - easier for us, but...to be honest, so much of my work is here. So many clients and people who depend on me..." His voice trails off. "I feel like I need to be here, at least right now. I hope... I hope you understand."
George reflects on this for a moment. "I understand," he says. "And my work's still going to be in LA, for the most part, but..." He sighs. Then an idea leaps fully formed into his mind, and barely suppressing his smile, he blurts out earnestly; "Do you really think this place is big enough for a pig?"
With a blink, Gregory tips his head to one side. "A p-pig? You mean - bring Max out here to visit?"
George chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I mean bring him out here to live. But he'd need a place with a garden, where he could run around and get fresh air, so... I don't know, I guess we'd have to buy a place. Oh, wait... you weren't trying to come between me and my pig, were you?" He shoots Gregory a very stern and serious look.
"No of course not! You and Max..." He sits up straighter, nearly christening George with his champagne. "Bring him out here to live - buy a place - we?!" A stranger would be stunned to learn Gregory made his living by being articulate.
George shrugs nonchalantly.
"We have to do something," he says. "If we keep being separated, I think we'll both go crazy. Most of my work is on location or on the phone, and if I have to keep going back to LA between trips to Europe, I'll never get to see you."
George glances down at the bed nervously, his cocky veneer suddenly giving way to the realisation that he's just making this up as he goes along. But that doesn't mean he doesn't mean it.
"I can't be away from you," he says, looking back up at Gregory. "I'll still have to go to LA, I'll still have to go away to film, but I can't be away from you, and your work is more important. So I think we need to buy a place."
Gregory feels his chest tighten. No one, not a single person, has ever, ever made him feel like this. Never made him feel like he was worth giving anything up for.
Overwhelmed, Gregory leans down and takes George's mouth in a passionate and slightly desperate kiss. Pulling away, he holds George's gaze. "I want us to buy a house. Together. That's just... you're incredible. I love you."
George smiles slightly embarrassedly. He's leaping in with both feet, he's not given this as much thought as it deserves, and he knows it's going to cause complications. But the way Gregory is looking at him, and the way he just kissed him, is all the reassurance he needs right now.
"Then let's do it," he says. "Let's take the next step."
Gregory is so utterly disoriented with joy and shock and anticipation he moves the tray to the foot of the bed, curling up against George's side. "I've never - I've never lived with anyone outside of roommates in college." He presses a kiss to his bare shoulder. "Have you?"
George rests an arm across Gregory's shoulder and holds him close.
"With a lover? Yeah. I lived with Mark for a long time. That's... that was the most serious relationship I ever had. He came over for the night and ended up staying for almost three years." He says it matter-of-factly, sensitive that it may not be what Gregory wants to hear, but determined not to misrepresent his history. "The Casa's always had people passing through. It's like a hotel."
Mark...no, couldn't be, Gregory thinks suddenly. "Mark? From the movie you did?" He strokes his fingers through George's beard. "Three years - wow." Longest he ever dated anyone was seven months, and the idea of living together never crossed his mind.
Once again, the divide between their experiences looms up and Gregory clamps down his nerves.
"If we buy a house here... do you want it to be like the Casa? Lots of people? Do you... do you need that?"
George shakes his head. "No. No, I don't need that. I like big houses, but... I don't know, I think this should be our place." He shrugs, and adds a little hesitantly, "I don't think I can sell the Casa. I can let it, but I don't want to lose the investment. And we'd probably have to buy the house in your name..."
George sighs. He hates that he needs to hide things from the world, but he knows what it would do to both their lives if he didn't. It makes it seem sordid or wrong, and it isn't.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not making this sound very romantic."
"It's all right, I understand. You have to think of your career. We'll put the house in my name, of course." Gregory leans his head on George's shoulder, quiet for a moment. "We should find something secluded, maybe out on the Island. Someplace where people won't see us together..."
How strange and sad that must be a condition of where they live.
"It'll be wonderful, I'm sure," Gregory tries to sound upbeat again, pressing kisses up George's shoulder until he reaches his mouth.
George holds a hand under Gregory's chin as they kiss, tasting him hungrily.
"It won't always be like this," George says, pressing his forehead to Gregory's. "They won't always want me to be the star. I'll be a producer, a director... I won't sell papers anymore. And if... if it becomes too much, if it becomes too hard, I want you to know, you're the most important thing to me. I don't need anything else."
Gregory can only nod, hooking one leg over George's hip so their bodies are in closer contact. He fears that sort of pressure, fears being the only thing for George - and falling short.
"We'll take it one step at a time. That's all we can do," Gregory says quietly, his eyes closing. He strokes his fingertips down the warm skin of George's chest, breathing deeply. "So much I want to do," he whispers, toying with the top of the towel.
George chuckles and places his own hand over Gregory's. "People are going to find our bodies a week from now, starved to death because we were too busy making out to eat anything," he says.
"Does that mean I should stop with the seduction and make with the cheese and crackers?" Gregory asks, smiling as their fingers twine together. "We do have an incredibly large block of time set aside for um... that."
"And I intend to do an incredibly large amount of... that," George grins. "But I'm a growing boy. I should keep my strength up." He gives Gregory a peck on the lips then reaches over the side of the bed and grabs Gregory's champagne flute, passing it back to him.
"One more toast. To love."
With serious eyes, Gregory tips his glass towards George's. "Yes. To love."
They clink their glasses together and drink.
At his age, George thinks, he should be too old to be scared. But commitment like this is something he's never tried before, and he doesn't just mean to try it. He means to succeed at it. Because though he is afraid, he's also certain. This isn't a mistake. This is the rest of his life.